


Sunday Undies (a clipping from The Atlantis Star)

by The Acrobat (the_acrobat)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-14
Updated: 2007-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_acrobat/pseuds/The%20Acrobat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Laura Cadman knows sex...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Undies (a clipping from The Atlantis Star)

**Author's Note:**

> A remix of [Garters](http://helenish.livejournal.com/132199.html?thread=1552743#t1552743) by [](http://panisdead.livejournal.com/profile)[**panisdead**](http://panisdead.livejournal.com/).

**THE ATLANTIS STAR**   
_Laura Cadman knows sex..._

One of the greatest things about living in a city like Atlantis is the dash of spice that interplanetary customs add to the dating scene. Whether it's the food, the fashions, or what on Earth would be freaky lifestyle choices, you think you know where you stand when a custom comes out of nowhere and knocks your entire worldview six inches to the left. When species and cultures from across two galaxies come together, a girl can't help but wonder "what exactly _does_ an Atlantean wear under his kilt?"

The answer to that question came, surprisingly, not after a hot date with a certain doctor, but Tuesday in the mess where I was bonding with my girlfriends over corn muffins and those pink ice drinks the quartermaster insists on calling _Cosmopolitans_. Lindsay was just telling us about her latest _rendez vous_ with her _little grey friend_ when Ronon Dex - that's the muscle-bound hunk the Colonel brought home from Sateda and somehow persuaded Dr. Weir to let him keep as a pet, for those of you who haven't yet had the pleasure - lumbered into the mess carrying a package tied with a dusky rose bow.

We take our excitement where we can get it in the Lost City of the Ancients and someone getting a romantic gift, especially from someone as steamy as our newest addition, is far enough out of the ordinary to count as entertainment. Several teams were off world, so the mess wasn't crowded, but everyone present - and that includes my manliest colleagues - watched to see who Dex would present the package to. There was an audible gasp (Lorne?) when he dropped the parcel on _Colonel Sheppard's_ tray.

"For you," he grunted, sitting down and digging in to his dinner in a single graceless gesture that almost but didn't quite cancel out his romantic gesture. The Colonel blinked. "Go ahead," Dex said, around a mouthful of Tava beans doused in Louisiana hot sauce, "Open it."

"You shouldn't have," the Colonel said in the drawl he usually reserves for belligerent natives and authority figures, reaching for the bow.

We all gaped when he opened up the package. There it was - frothy pink lace trimming plum silk, the sort of thing we've all admired at the store at least once, and then bought the cheap equivalent at the Victoria's Secret at the mall the next day because it's not like men in the U. S. Marine Corps look that closely when they're peeling off your BDUs, resting on a bed of tissue paper (tissue paper! Where did Dex find _that_ in the Pegasus Galaxy?) as if it had blossomed there.

The entire mess hall hissed into silence. The only sound was the chink of garter clips as the Colonel lifted his gift out of the box.

"You really shouldn't have," he repeated, his voice choked. He was red to the tips of his ears.

McKay elbowed him in the ribs, then. "Gift!" he hissed.

I can't help it; I giggled. The girls and I have a pool on when those two will get around to resolving their _"tension"_. I suspect I might have just won $500.

Anyway, Teyla, who can be as subtle as a shark at feeding time and whom I'm convinced understands far more Earth culture than she lets on, looked at the Colonel, her eyes narrowed, and deadpanned, "We were unsure of your exact size, Colonel. You may wish to hold them up to yourself to check the fit."

"I--" the Colonel said.

"Hold them up," McKay hissed, "Everyone he ever knew was horribly killed - does it hurt to try to make him feel like he's fitting in?"

"We are eager to know if they suit you," Teyla said, "Why don't you stand?"

_Eager_ is one way of putting it. Lindsay was leaning so far forward on her chair trying to check the Colonel's fit that I was afraid she was going to fall on the floor.

As if he was coming out of a trance, the Colonel flicked the panties, which unfurled in front of his chest, wafting perfumed air across the mess. In slow motion, he lowered them to waist height, holding them an inch away from his body as if afraid that if let them touch him he would become infected with that reportedly deadly disease (which hasn't killed _me_ yet), _femininity_.

"You..."

"Don't worry," Dex interrupted, "I bargained the seller way down. They were cheap. Now you won't be embarrassed when you're undressing for the showers." He was clearly pleased with himself.

"Embarrassed..." the Colonel trailed off.

"Great!" Dex said, leaning across the table to give his shoulder an affectionate slap. "Those'll work great with your coloring." I wondered if _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_ had made it to the Pegasus Galaxy and was airing on the Ancient TV Network. After 10,000 years of reruns, something worth watching had to turn up eventually. I couldn't think of any other reason why a man who dresses like he crawled out of a "Bog Boy Meets the Village Virgin" porno flick should know so much about fashion.

My sources tell me that the Colonel's panties are a men's style from P4X-525 and have tiny, delicate flowers embroidered around the leg holes, with pearl detail and a _flap_. Word is Dex traded them for a Mounds bar, a Philips head screwdriver, and a picture of the Sunshine Girl from a 1998 issue of the _Toronto Sun_ which he probably swiped from McKay. It has been neither confirmed nor denied that the Colonel is wearing his gift, but those of you who would like to find out might try the showers near the swimming area off the East Pier, or talk to Zelenka about gaining access to the security feed. It's not like there's actually any privacy here in the Lost City of the Ancients anyway.

As for me, I hope that a certain nameless doctor has a few _esoteric customs of his own_ because I think I might have discovered a new kink. A little shopping trip to P4X-525 might be in order. It seems that we have happened upon a fashion trend that ought to be spread...


End file.
